


Demons

by RogueWitch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueWitch/pseuds/RogueWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jane is getting settled in her lab with S.H.I.E.L.D, Darcy is being trained as an agent, in order to keep her job as Jane's assistant. She's not the only one who isn't thrilled with this prospect; after the events of the New York Invasion, Hawkeye is taken off of active duty, and reassigned to train Darcy, while he goes through mandatory counseling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this quite a while ago, and totally forgot that it existed, until I started writing on AO3, and rediscovered it. So, here are the first 8 chapters, tell me what you think, and if I should keep working on it.

Chapter 1

Darcy sat quietly in Director Fury's office aboard the Helicarrier, trying hard not to say anything while the Director was talking. After the events in New Mexico, and then the invasion of New York, SHIELD had become concerned with Jane's safety, mostly due to her relationship with Thor, but also because of her association with SHIELD, and had been moved into a secure lab in Stark Tower. Darcy was clearly about to be fired. She had no training in astrophysics, or any kind of physics for that matter, she wasn't a scientist, and she hadn't even finished her degree. She was going to be fired, though why they had brought her all the way to the middle of the Atlantic to do it, she couldn't even begin to understand.

The final member of the meeting had escorted her from the helo pad on Stark Tower to the secret base. Hawkeye leaned against the doorframe, clearly not thrilled with being at this meeting. Darcy did her best to ignore his presence, but since he was the friendliest face in the room, it was hard.

"Ms. Lewis," Director Fury began, looking down at the disheveled college student, who was currently clutching the cuffs of her oversized sweatshirt, and chewing on her bottom lip. "As you know, we've upped security around Dr. Foster, for obvious reasons." He waited for the girl to nod her head in understanding. "It's been discussed, that since you have no formal training, that you cannot continue on in your current role as Dr. Foster's assistant."

Darcy jumped in, no longer able to hold her tongue any longer. "I know that I'm not in the least bit qualified to assist Jane, I'm just a college student, but what am I supposed to do, now that I know all this stuff that's going on?" Darcy picked at the cuff of her sleeve. "How am I going to just sit there, not knowing if something's going to happen?"

"Ms. Lewis," Director Fury held up his hands, telling her to stop. "We have discussed this; you aren't qualified, not yet."

"What does that mean?" Darcy threw her hands up, giving up on trying to understand Fury's mind games.

"It means," Hawkeye pushed himself off of the wall and flopped down in the chair next to her. "That we're going to train you."

"Effective immediately, provided you agree, you will be fast tracked through Agent Training," Fury said, pulling out a tablet and handing it to her. "Starting now, Agent Barton will be your personal trainer, you will be moving into Stark Tower with him, and for the next year, you will be his personal shadow."

"What?" Darcy stared at the tablet in front of her, a contract with SHIELD on the screen.

"All you have to do is sign, and we'll be on our way." Hawkeye looked impatient waving at the screen.

"Why him?" Darcy directed the question at Fury.

"You are acquainted, and he's the best person for the job," Fury said cryptically.

"He means I've been benched from active duty, so I'm the only one available." He jumped up, and circled behind her chair. "So sign the contract, so we can get back to the Tower."

"What's your hurry," Darcy said, while she skimmed the document. "I've got like a thousand more questions; okay not actually a thousand, but I've got one." She looked up at the Director again, and he gestured for her to continue. "Once I'm trained, do I get to go back to working with Jane?"

"That will depend on Agent Barton," Fury told her. "He is to be your handler, in so far as once you're officially an Agent, he will be your direct superior, and he will handle your assignments. But the other option is to walk away, go back to school, and have nothing further to do with SHIELD or the Avenger Initiative."

"What happens when he goes back on active duty?"

"I imagine he'll go back to being active before your training is up," Fury clasped his hands in front of his face. "At that time, you will begin to accompany him on missions, along with Agent Romanoff."

"You're going to send me out in the field with Widow?" Darcy skimmed through the document faster. "I'm so getting shot." Darcy signed her loopy signature on the line at the bottom. "Do I at least get a cool nick name?"

"No," Hawkeye grabbed her by her upper arm and pulled her out of the chair. "May we be dismissed, Sir?"

"You're dismissed, Agent." The director turned his chair around, facing out to the ocean view. "Ms. Lewis, please try not to damage my Agent too badly, he's the best sharp shooter we have."

The ride back from the Helicarrier was quiet. Hawkeye stared directly out the windshield, a death grip on the controls of the helicopter, Darcy kept a tight grip on her harness, still not used to traveling by helicopter, and not sure if she ever would be.

"Will I learn to fly one of these?" Darcy asked over the radio headset.

"I didn't learn to fly a helicopter from SHIELD, I learned it from Special Forces," Hawkeye said, not looking away from the horizon line. "You'll be learning self-defense, I'll teach you how to fire and care for a firearm, and you will learn about undercover work from Natasha."

"Why not you?"

"I don't do undercover work," he said, banking the helicopter back towards New York, and the Stark Tower. "I'm the guy standing on a building, looking at you through a scope. You don't even hear the shot when I'm sent to take you out."

"You're a sniper," Darcy said.

"Among other things." Hawkeye went back to being silent, and Darcy couldn't think of anything else she wanted to say after that. She was learning how to be an assassin, from the SHIELD assassins. She needed to process this. How was that supposed to help her with being Jane's assistant, unless there was never any plans for her to be Jane's assistant again. She didn't ask. To be honest, both Hawkeye and Black Widow scared her. Sure she knew Agent Barton from New Mexico, he gave her back her iPod, but then he was Agent Barton, after the Invasion of New York, he was Hawkeye, and after she found out about what had happened while Loki was in his head, and the footage of his part in the ensuing battle, he scared her. And now she'd literally signed her life into his hands. "I share a floor at the Tower with Natasha, you'll be moving into the third bedroom, you'll eat, sleep and learn with us, but mostly it'll just be you and I, Natasha is still on active service."

"Why did they bench you?" Darcy was sure she already knew, because of Loki, but he didn't seem to be too affected by the whole thing.

"They're worried that Loki damaged my brain," Barton said without emotion. "They're not sure I can be as effective as I once was, because I've been compromised."

"Are they right?" Darcy asked, pulling her hands into her sweatshirt. It made it easier to deal with the helicopter ride when she was talking, took her mind off of the situation.

"I don't know," he said, honestly. "I didn't feel any different while I had my bow in my hands, shooting at those aliens. But I haven't been out in the field other than that, you never know how things have changed until you test them."

"So," Darcy didn't know what to say next, but knew she had to say something after he was open with her. If he was going to train her, she was going to have to show him he could lean on her as much as she would be leaning on him. "How is it going to be living with Agent Romanoff knowing you aren't going into the field with your partner?"

"If you're going to be living with us, you're going to need to learn to call her Natasha," Hawkeye told her, completely dodging the question. "She needs off time, too."

"And what do I call you?" Darcy asked, knowing she couldn't call him Hawkeye.

"Clint."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," he glanced over at her, giving her an incredulous look. "It would be silly to call me Steve."

"But your name is 'Clint?'" Darcy snorted. "I mean really?"

"What's wrong with my name?"

"Nothing, nothing. I've just never actually met anyone named Clint; it's not a particularly common name." Darcy picked at her sleeves, again.

"Would you feel more comfortable calling me Barton," he asked. "It's what the guys call me."

"What does Natasha call you?" Darcy tried out the name, and it felt foreign to her tongue, she just couldn't wrap her mind around Black Widow having a normal person name.

"At home? Clint."

"Are you two a thing?" Figuring she should get this out of the way, since she would be living with the two of them.

"Not for a long time." Barton said. "Once upon a time. It was a spectacular disaster."

"And you two are still partners and share an apartment in Stark Tower?"

"We've learned that to affectively work together, its better if we also live in close proximity." He flipped switches, and started the final descent onto the helo pad. "Plus, she can't cook worth shit, and if you don't feed her she starts to live on Power Bars and soda."

"You cook?"

"Better than she does."

Chapter 2

Darcy had been staying in Jane's guest room since they had arrived in New York, though technically, since her apartment was on the upper levels, which were reserved for the Avengers, it was Thor's apartment, not that he was around to actually use them. Jane was working with Dr. Selvig on restoring the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, but until it was up and running, Thor was in Asgard. Darcy had been living out of her suitcase for more than a week not knowing what was actually going to happen with her. Now that she knew, she packed up her single suitcase, and wheeled it out of the apartment. Using her new ID badge she assessed JARVIS, and proceeded to her new home, two floors down.

Tony Stark had designated the top fifteen floors as space for the Avengers, though since this had only happened a few weeks before, most of the space was still under renovation. "The thirtieth floor is our gym," Natasha told her as she met the younger girl at the elevator, showing her to the apartment. "We're on the thirty eighth floor, JARVIS will help you get were ever you want to go, until you are acquainted."

Darcy just nodded, not really sure how she felt about everything that was being thrown at her, and also a little scared of the older woman. Stark Tower was supposed to be dedicated to just the Avengers, no other SHIELD agent or operative was living there, so Darcy was a bit confused how Director Fury could just dictate that she would be living there, but wasn't ready to poke holes in her now living arrangements. New York was expensive, and she didn't want to have to find her own place, though most agents had rooms on the Helicarrier, so she could probably stay there.

Natasha showed her to an apartment at the end of a short hall. "We have the northern half of the floor. If you take a right out of the elevator, you'll get to Steve's apartment."  
"How come you're the only Avengers who share a place?" Darcy asked.

"It's the way it's always been," the red head said, cryptically. Darcy didn't inquire further. "The kitchen's over there. Clint does most of the cooking, but if you can, please feel free. I'm trying to convince Clint that there are foods outside of the carnivore food group."

"I'm strictly a put pop-tarts in the toaster kind of cook," Darcy said, trying to keep the dark blush from staining her cheeks. She had always meant to learn how to cook, but had never really needed to.

"At least you can do that, the Hawk has banned me from the kitchen since the microwave incident four years ago," Natasha told her. "We will never speak of it."

"Noted," Darcy looked around the kitchen, which looked brand new and state of the art. "How long have you guys been living here?"

"About a week," which completely explained the next room, the living room was beautifully painted, and had a single couch that had clearly seen better days, and a huge flat screen sitting on milk crates. "We haven't had much time to move furniture."

"I take it the flat screen is Clint's."

"You'd be wrong," the Widow said, grinning, which Darcy decided as scarier than her scowling. "He's doesn't leave his room. This one's mine. I don't feel like I can get a proper night sleep if I have a TV in the room." She led Darcy down a single hallway with four doors. "These are the bedrooms, the one on the right is mine, yours is at the end of the hall, sorry but you and Clint will be sharing a bathroom." The Widow ducked into her own room leaving Darcy to explore the last of the apartment on her own.

The hall bath was simple, or at least as simple as anything in Stark Tower could be, it had a nice sized garden tub and a walk in shower that was far from standard size, with four shower heads; who on earth needed four shower heads? It also had a door closing off the toilet from the rest of the bathroom; at least she wouldn't have to worry about waiting for Clint to leave the bathroom before she could brush her teeth. She closed the door behind her and proceeded to the end of the hall, to her new room.

The room was bigger than any bedroom she'd ever had, but much more sparsely decorated. It was painted a simple white, and had only a single item of furniture, a king sized bed that faced the wall of windows. On the bed was an envelope, which she quickly picked up.

'Darcy,

Welcome to Stark Tower, as we are still in renovations; please feel free to let me know if there are any accommodations that you wish to have added to your residence, or to the Avenger's space. Also, make a list of things that you need to make your room more your own.

Tony.'

Darcy carefully folded the note back up and put it back into the envelope. All she really wanted was a couple of night stands, and she was sure she could scrounge up a couple of milk crates to do the job. She wheeled her suitcase into the closet, and had to sit down, looking at the large walk-in that was about the same size as her college dorm room.  
"I think I could get used to this," she set the suitcase on the vanity in the middle of the room, and walked back into the bedroom and flopped down on the most comfortable bed she'd ever had the pleasure of laying on, and promptly fell asleep.

A knock sounded on her door, before it was unceremoniously opened. "Darcy?" Hawkeye said, looking around the bedroom.

"In here," she called from the closet, where she was hanging up the three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, and sweatshirt she had brought with her. They looked extremely sad in the huge space. "I think I might need to send for the rest of my cloths."

"Yeah, and maybe shop for some workout gear," The Hawk said, hopping up onto her built in vanity. "Natasha can loan you some for now." He looked at the single pair of Doc Martens that were placed neatly under the hanging cloths, and the ratty pair of trainers she was wearing. "Scratch that, grab your purse, we need to get you shoes anyway."

"You're taking me shopping?" She looked him up and down; Agent Barton was the last person on earth, with the possible exception of Director Fury, that she could ever see going shopping willingly, and definitely not with her.

"It's either me or Natasha, or trust JARVIS to have something brought in," he said, nodding his head out the door. "Natasha sucks at shopping."

"And cooking, and having relations with kitchen appliances," Darcy said. "It's a good thing she's a kick ass spy."

"She's never really had to live in the real world," Clint said. "Even before SHIELD, she was taken care of when it came to those kinds of things."

"What happens when she's undercover and has to use a toaster?" Darcy asked, not really expecting an answer.

"It's never come up," was all the Hawk said on the subject. "Come on, we're burning daylight, and I still have to take you down to the gym for assessment."

Shopping took longer than Darcy had thought it would. A simple trip to get shoes turned into a wardrobe redo, the two of them struggled under the weight of the bags that Darcy had acquired, not to mention the few things that Clint felt he might need, including a new holster, and a set of throwing knives. "You'll practice on these until I think you are ready for your own set," he had said.

"I'm sorry," Darcy just looked at him. "You're teaching me to throw knives? I can't even begin to explain why that's a bad idea."

"Darcy, you're going to learn how to do things this year that you never even through about learning," Clint told her. "Today, we'll start with basics. I just need to see where we're starting."

"Oh, yeah," Darcy chuckled. "We don't even need to go to the gym; we're starting at the beginning. I can use a Taser, and that's about it."

"Thor has regaled us with the tail of how you took him down at your first meeting," Clint said. "We're going to do an assessment."

"Did he also tell you, that I only tased him after Jane hit him with our van?" Darcy dumped the load of bags she was carrying on the floor in her closet.

"He did." Clint dropped her bags and walked to her door. "Change into something you can work out in, and meet me in the living room in five."

Chapter 3

Darcy stood in the middle of the Avengers gym space on level thirty, sporting brand new trainers and yoga pants, along with a gray t-shirt with the SHIELD logo on the front. The gym was huge, taking over most of the floor, with a track running along the ceiling where the thirty first floor should have been. Natasha was sparing with Captain America, who had insisted Darcy call him Steve, though everyone else called him Captain or Cap. Darcy was no expert in hand to hand, hell she wasn't even a knowledgeable novice, but even she could tell that the Captain was pulling his punches, which just made Natasha hit harder.

Clint tapped her gently on the shoulder, bringing her back from the trance that she'd gotten herself into watching the two Avengers spar, she only jumped a little, but she blushed a lot. "First lesson," Clint said, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed she looked at being startled. "Always be aware of your surroundings."

"Noted." Darcy took a few steps away from the archer, who was standing very close, and put her hands on her hips. "Am I properly attired, Clint?" Still trying to get used to saying his name.

"When we're training or on assignment it Agent Barton," Clint said, shrugging his shoulders. "Its policy."

"Whatever," Darcy said, her hands still on her hips. "Am I properly attired, Agent Barton?"

"You look great," he said, shaking his head. "Now pull down some of those mats and help me set them up."

Hand to hand was absolutely not Darcy's favorite activity. Clint showed her some basic blocking and throwing moves, and then proceeded to introduce her to the floor mats for an hour, before calling it quits, and directing her over to the firing range on the other side of the gym. She ddint' hate her lesson in handgun safety nearly as much as being pounded into the mat, but it also lacked the satisfaction of actually getting to fire a gun.

"So, when do I actually get to use any of these weapons?" Darcy asked, running an oil cloth over the handgun she had been learning how to assemble for the pervious hour.  
"When I'm sure you can handle it," Clint told her, putting away the other weapons he had pulled out, and cleaned while she drilled. "We'll start with knives, and move up from there, in the meantime, that gun is yours, there's no firing pin, so it can't be used, but you need to drill assembling it, you'll be timed." He tossed the inner pants holster that he had purchased earlier that day. "You're also required to always carry, you need to get used to it, once you become an active agent, you will always need to be armed, unless you're in the shower."

"Even in bed?" Darcy tried to make it sound as neutral as possible, but her inner snark in advertently made it sound dirty.

"Always," Clint shook his head. He knew he had gotten in over his head the moment he had been given this assignment, but orders where orders. "Natasha should be finished with her work out, you need to head over to her, she's going to take you on a run."

"Oh fun," Darcy blinked. She'd never been particularly good at running, not that she'd ever really tried too hard, she was much more of a sit on the couch watching movies kind of person then an exercise kind of girl.

"By the time you're done with training you'll need to be able to run ten miles in two hours, for now, you'll take a jog around the park." Clint clapped her on the back, and headed to the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Darcy asked, he was supposed to be the one who was training her, after all.

"I've got a meeting," he said, not elaborating. The elevator door closed before she could ask anything else.

Clint sat on a leather couch, looking out the window, waiting for the Dr. Katz to come in. This was ridiculous. There was no reason for him to waste an hour everyday talking about the incidents leading up to the New York Invasion. He'd been tortured for a week in Afghanistan and no one had said word one about counseling, he had been given time to recover, and was back in the field as soon as he was physically able. This time, he was absolutely at top physical form, and was stuck training a new agent, just so they could fast track her, and having his head unnecessarily shrunk.

"Ah, Agent Barton," Dr. Katz entered his office and sat down on the equally uncomfortable leather chair opposite the annoyed agent. "How are we today?"

Clint hated the way Dr. Katz always said that. It smacked of some kind of disassociation. "We're doing just fine today, Doc." He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back into the unforgiving couch.

"I hear you've been given a new assignment," the doctor said, picking up his notebook and pen. "Tell me how that's going."

"Its fine," Clint said, not rising to the doctor's bait. Katz knew perfectly well that he didn't want to be training anyone; he wanted to be back in the field. Before all of this happened, he had been trying like hell to get out of his assignment with Cube security, and was looking forward to an assignment with Natasha in the Middle East, to obtain an asset, and now he was grounded and Natasha had been reassigned.

"Would you mind elaborating on that 'fine?'" The doctor clicked the top of his pen, and Barton knew he was getting under the good doctors skin.

"She's green, she's never fired a gun, has no martial arts training," Clint said, though he had nothing against Darcy herself, she was a perfectly nice person to be around, and if he wasn't an agent assigned to her, he was sure he'd become friends with her anyway, but as far as being responsible for her, it sucked. "She's being fast tracked, and I don't know how I can in good conscience bring someone like her into the field with me, how I can let my partner go into the field with her."

"Director Fury is a pretty good judge, I don't think he would leave you someone who wasn't capable of becoming a great agent, and he certainly wouldn't fast track someone who couldn't be taken into the field with two of his top agents."

"You'd think so," Clint told the doctor, not sure why he was bothering to discuss this with him. "But if Fury thought he was getting something bigger out of the deal, and I think getting Dr. Foster to cooperate with SHIELD, he very well might drop her assistant in our laps, just to keep her around, and keep me busy."

"I think time will prove you wrong," Dr. Katz told the Avenger. "I had a look at her file, and while she has no formal training, she has nearly completed a degree in psychology, has a far about average IQ, and has done an admirable job dealing with the realities that she has been faced with, when an average person would have a difficult time. I think over time you'll come to see her as an asset and not as a burden. But for now, she is your burden to bear. Let her help you come to terms with what has happened to you, she not only has the knowledge to help you, but I think she also has the compassion."

"Whatever you say, Doc," Clint looked at the clock on the doctors desk. "It looks like our time is up for today."

"So it is," Dr. Katz admitted. "Try not to be too hard on her. She didn't choose you, Director Fury did."

"Right." Hawkeye walked out the door to the office, hoping against hope that he would have the gym to himself for once.

Darcy stood in the shower after a five mile run with Natasha. If she hadn't been as frightened by the other woman, she didn't think she would have been motivated enough to keep running. As it was, her legs felt like they were going to collapse from under her at any moment.

The knock on the door was completely unwelcomed, but she wasn't well enough acquainted with her roommates to know if they were the type of people who might just barge in. "I'll be out in a minute," she called, sticking her head out of the shower door.

"We only have two bathrooms in this apartment, Recruit," Clint shouted though the door. "And Natasha won't let me in her room."

"That seems like a personal problem," Darcy shouted back.

"A personal problem that will soon become your problem, too," he banged on the door again. "You have one minute before I come in."

Darcy turned off the water and grabbed the towel that had been provided in the vanity of her closet, and hastily wrapped it around herself before her impatient roommate banged on the door again.

"A locked door isn't' going to even begin to keep me out," Barton said. "You live with spies."

"Whatever," Darcy said, opening the door and strolling to her room. "It's all yours." She could feel his eyes on her as she walked down the hall, but didn't bother to turn around. "I thought you needed to use the bathroom." She just smirked when the bathroom door hastily slammed.

Chapter 4  
A week into training Darcy was starting to feel like she was getting into a rhythm. The first week had been rough, and she spent most of it feeling off kilter, and sore from all the new physical training. She had started to feel better about living with Clint and Natasha, though they both made her a bit uneasy, possibly because of the thousand ways they could each kill her with a spoon; but then Natasha got pulled away on assignment, and it was just her and Clint.

It wasn't that Clint wasn't a nice guy, he was. It was just disconcerting that he would just barge into the bathroom, sometimes without knocking, or walk around the apartment in nothing but a pair of boxers, seemingly forgetting that she was there at all.

"You know, most people at least put pants on when they have roommates," Darcy said, not looking up from her computer as Clint strolled through the living room in a pair of well-loved boxers. "Or like boxers without holes." Clint looked down at the boxers he was wearing, not seeing anything amiss and shrugging. "The holes in the butt, sweetie." He looked over his shoulder, sure enough; a large hole had formed at some point right over his left butt cheek. He shrugged and went to the kitchen.

"We're roommates," Clint said from the kitchen, trying to find something eatable for breakfast. Since Natasha had been out of town, he hadn't bothered to restock the fridge, Darcy seemed to live exclusively on pop-tarts and pizza rolls, and he was perfectly happy to just toss stuff in the microwave if she was happy with that. "You're just going to have to get used to it. Before I lived with Natasha, I didn't even bother dressing up this much."

Darcy shook her head. "Then I'm getting you new boxers, I didn't need to know you had 'De oppresso liber' tattooed on your butt."

"It's not on my butt," Clint said, pulling up the elastic of his boxers a fraction of an inch, covering the lettering completely. "And don't you make fun of my tattoo; yours says 'soup.'"  
"It does not; it says 'courage' and mine is on my shoulder, nothing a swimsuit would normally cover."

"It says 'soup,' and my swimsuit doesn't cover mine either," he settled on a package of pop-tarts and threw them in the toaster. "What are you doing anyway; I thought you were going down to Dr. Foster's lab today."

Darcy had Sundays off, which was nice, but since she wasn't cleared for anywhere but Stark Tower and the base, she didn't really have anything to do. "Jane won't go into the lab until after nine, since I'm not there, her new intern in being a little stricter on the times that he is willing to show up, and Sunday's are after breakfast and only until noon." Darcy clicked a few things on her laptop then closed the top. "I was reading over the SHIELD manual."

"Again?" Clint was only a little impressed with Darcy's enthusiasm when it came to understanding the roles. "You've read it more than I have."

"I want to make sure that I'm prepared," Darcy had no illusions about why she was here, she knew that they were only bothering to keep her on to make Jane happy, the second she wasn't useful she would be on her own.

"You know, you're not doing badly," Clint said as he flopped down on the couch next to her and put his warm pastry in his mouth. "I was expecting lots of complaining and bruises the first week. I've cleared you for handgun training starting tomorrow."

"I have lots of bruises, all over," Darcy said, pulling up her pant leg and showing off a particularly fantastic one. "You kick hard."

"Bad guys aren't going to pull punches," Clint said. He was more and more sure she could take whatever he dished out, the longer he trained her. He had expected whining and bitching, and general unpleasantness, and aside from some complaining about not being able to fire a gun yet, she'd taken instruction very well, Natasha even complemented her on her endurance training.

"I am well aware," Darcy said, setting her laptop down on the coffee table that Tony Stark had brought by after she'd made a comment to JARVIS about the lack of furniture in the apartment. The billionaire had actually brought the table, not sending someone else with it, but showed up at their door with a coffee table. Darcy was a bit impressed with him, but then he could keep up with her snark, and that was difficult. "I'm also aware that you are pulling punches. Natasha noticed, too."

"Yeah, she called me on it, sue me," Clint stretched out on the couch, pushing his feet to just shy of where she was sitting. "I won't be pulling them anymore; you need to build up a tolerance for pain in this line of work." He should know, he'd had his fair share, more than if you counted having his brain taken over by an alien and being responsible for nearly killing everyone on the Helicarrier, and actually killing about a dozen agents.

"So," Darcy said, seeing the pained expression that Clint wasn't doing a particularly good job of hiding. "For my day off, since it's my first one since coming here, any recommendations for entertainment?"

"After breakfast I was going to the shooting range with my bow," Clint said, taking another bite of his pop-tart. "If you want I can give you a quick lesson."

"I thought I wasn't cleared for weapons training until tomorrow," though she wouldn't mind getting a chance to shoot something, even with a bow and arrow. She was well aware that no matter how good she ended up being with it; she would be humiliated compared with his skill. She'd seen some of the footage from the Invasion; he could hit a moving target without looking.

"You're not being trained in archery," Clint said, he thought it was a waste not to train her in every form of weaponry that she might come into contact with, but Fury had said it wasn't a needed skill for most agents. He was only a little pissed off at that comment.

"So, why bother giving me lessons?"

"Just because Fury doesn't think you should be able to officially shoot an arrow, doesn't mean I don't think it's useful," Clint polished off the last of his breakfast, and took his plate into the kitchen.

"And you're using the fact that it's technically my day off to circumvent Fury's orders."

"Exactly," he said. "Though you have not actual obligation to learn, I think you'll enjoy it."

"Getting to actually shoot something, and not just clean and disassemble guns," Darcy grinned. "Let me go change." She bounded off the couch and into her room. "You're going to put pants on, too, right?" She called from her room.

"Yes, I'll put pants on," he shouted back. "As a bonus I'll even put on a shirt."

"I'm not sure that's a bonus," Darcy said, but not loud enough that she thought he could hear her.

"I'll keep that in mind." Shit.

Archery ended up being more difficult than Darcy had thought it would be. It wasn't just shooting things, there was a technique involved, and after four hours at the range, Darcy was just starting to actually shoot the targets and not the floor or the wall. But, she was having a blast.

"So this is what you do on your days off?" Darcy asked, as her arrow found the target once again. She'd yet to get close to the bull's-eye, but was still happy with the satisfactory thunk of the arrow hitting the target and sinking in.

"Sometimes," Clint said, knocking his own arrow and letting it loose. The arrow joined its friends on his target, where he was currently making a smiley face out of the loosed arrows.

"No wonder you're so good," Darcy let loose her own arrow, watching it sink into the second to middle ring of the target.

"You're not so bad yourself," Clint told her, putting the final arrow into his pattern. "Usually I come down here with Tash, and she throws knives."

"Oh, do I get to do that too?" Darcy was finding that she actually enjoyed most of her training, she had never considered herself a violent person, but hand to hand training was fun, if not a bit painful, and she loved weaponry.

"I'm sure we can work it in," Clint winked. "Knife fighting is part of your hand to hand training, but you aren't currently scheduled for throwing."

"So Sunday classes," Darcy said, her arrow hitting the bull's-eye for the first time, prompting an impromptu dance. Clint laughed.

"At this rate, you'll be in the field before I'm ever cleared for duty," Clint said, shaking his head. He couldn't have been more wrong about her ability to go through basic.  
"Speaking of," Darcy segwayed. "How is that going?" She knew that he was going to counseling while she was out running with Natasha, not that either of them had ever actually said it. "It had to be rough getting your mine hijacked."

"It's fine," Clint said, pulling his arrows back out of the target, and feeding them into his quiver. He wasn't keen on talking to Dr. Katz about his encounter, but he had a feeling it would be easier to talk to Darcy. Natasha had flat out refused to talk to him about it, she said it was in the past, and wasn't him anyway. But he remembered every detail, every thought that Loki had forced on him, and it felt like him in his mind. "It's hard."

"I bet," Darcy put down her bow, and sat down on the bench. "If you need to talk to someone about it, I'll listen."

"Thanks," he was really glad he got stuck with her.

Chapter 5

Natasha had been gone to parts unknown for a week when it happened. Darcy was lying in bed, browsing through her Facebook account, that she was no longer allowed to update, checking in on people she didn't have time to talk to, not that she could tell them what was going on in her life anyway; she heard a loud thud, but dismissed it, living with Clint and Natasha has desensitized her to clattering noise in the middle of the night, it usually just meant that one of them was restless and pounding on their respective punching bags. It did remind her to mention to JARVIS to have one put in her room. Before she could put in the request, she heard a bellowing shout from the next room over. She was out of bed faster than she could think, running to the hallway, not even bothering to throw on a pair of pants.

She ran to the next room over in her tank top and purple boy-shorts, tearing open the door before she could think about the possible consequences. Hawkeye was backed into the corner of the room, as close to the wall as he could make himself go, eye tightly closed, his bedside lamp was across the room, the cord having pulled out of the wall, knocking everything on his nightstand on the floor. The thump she'd heard must have been the heavy lamp making contact with the wall that separated their two rooms, shattering against the wall. Glass littered the floor.

"Clint?" Darcy asked, tentatively. Her roommate was completely still, his Browning Hi-Power pointed towards the door, his eyes still tightly closed. "Agent Barton," she tried again, but he clearly couldn't hear her, only crouched to the ground and reached to where he usually kept his knife, in a belt sheath, which he wasn't wearing, since he was clad only in his usual pair of boxer shorts.

Darcy walked tentatively toward his dresser and pulled the top drawer open, pulling out his service weapon, and checking the safety, not wanting to mistakenly shoot her boss. "Clint, put your gun down," she said, walking around to the window, ducking below his sight line, not wanting him to shoot her either. She knew that if he was aware, there would be no way that she could disarm him, but she hoped that while he was in this trance she could get his gun away from him. His gun followed where her voice came from, she paused, crouched low on the ground, rolling forward, like he had taught her, and creeping as quietly as she could, using the bed as cover, until she was crouched at the base of his footboard, as close as she could get to him before she ran out of cover, not that the bed would do much to stop a bullet, but it would at least slow it down a bit. Clint kept shouting, though she couldn't understand his hysterical babbling, she knew it was a nightmare of some kind. "Clint, its Darcy."

"You can't help," was the first thing he said that she understood. "He's inside my mind, I can't stop him."

"I can help," she said, peeking around the end of the bed, trying to assess the best way to get that gun out of his hand without him shooting at her. "You just need to put your gun down, and then we can sort this all out."

"He'll make me shoot you," he looked frantic, though his eyes where still closed. "Please help me. I don't want to hurt anyone else."

She wasn't sure if he was talking to her, or whoever was in his nightmare with him, but she knew she couldn't just sit there all night, waiting for him to do something. She took another look around the edge of the bed; his gun was still firmly pointed over her head. She scooted toward the other end of the footboard, and crept along the far side of the bed, before rolling onto the mattress, and launching herself at him, pushing his gun hand against the wall, forcing the Browning out of his hand, locking her arm around his neck, and her legs around his waist. He smacked his head hard against the wall, before throwing her back the way she came. Darcy landed hard on her back on the bed, a very agitated Hawkeye straddling her waist, a knife that he had gotten from somewhere against her throat.

"Darcy?" his eyes were finally open. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"Currently?" she asked, putting her hand on his wrist, easing the knife away from herself. "Trying not to get my throat slit."

"You attacked me," he said. He slid the knife back in its sheath under his pillow.

"You were having a nightmare," Darcy said, deciding to ease him down before she addressed the fact that he was sitting on her. "You were shouting and pointing your gun."  
"And you thought it was a good idea to jump me?"

"It seemed the best course of action at the time," Darcy said. "Do you want to tell me what this was all about?" She was already pretty sure that she knew what his nightmare was about, but she needed him to say it himself, almost as much as he needed to say it out loud. She knew he hadn't really been divulging much to the shrink he'd been seeing. He was too much like she was about talking to people she didn't know, and didn't really trust. It was hard enough to say anything to a shrink, much less the deepest darkest part of you.

"Loki," he said, easing back and collapsing against the headboard. "He was in my head again, I could feel him, and I couldn't move or do anything." He got this far away look on his face. "I could see and feel everything he was making me do, but I couldn't move to stop it."

"He's not here now," Darcy scooted up the bed, putting her arms around the archer, pulling him close to her. "He can't hurt you now; he can't make you hurt anyone."

"But I can still feel him," he said, letting her comfort him. He shouldn't let her comfort him, or see him this vulnerable, she needed to be able to count on him to be strong and unwavering, but at the moment, he couldn't do anything but let her hold him. Fury was right, he was compromised, he shouldn't be in the field, and this was just proving it. Talking to Dr. Katz was doing nothing.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Darcy said, stroking his hair, and feeling him relax. "What happened in the nightmare?"

"I don't remember," Clint said, his eyes falling closed again. "I can just remember feeling him pushing me down into my mind, it was torture."

"I can only imagine," Darcy said, her voice soft and comforting. "We'll talk about it in the morning, just go back to sleep." He nodded and relaxed, he should tell her to leave, but he knew if she left he wouldn't get anymore sleep, and she would just sit in her room and worry.

Natasha poked her head into Clint's open door, confused as to why it was open at this hour of the morning, or open at all. He always had his door close. She saw her best friend wrapped around their new recruit, both in their underwear, on top of the covers, his arms wrapped around Darcy's waist, and the girl propped up against the headboard, both sleeping. The Widow looked around the room, seeing the broken lamp, and the discarded gun on the floor, no errant pieces of clothing. She nodded her head, thankful that the other woman had been home to help her friend when she couldn't be. She quietly closed the door and went to her own room. Darcy was coming along nicely as an agent, if she could get Clint's gun out of his hand, even while he was sleepwalking, then she was going to be just fine. The fact that he'd let her comfort him, just solidified Natasha's earlier assessment. This girl was going to be good for him; he just needed to let her help him heal first.

She stripped down and crawled into bed, it had been a long and difficult assignment; she was asleep before her head hit the pillow, her worries sated for the time being.

Chapter 6

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" Yep, Clint was up. Natasha turned over, hoping the situation would resolve itself without her presence. "And where are your cloths!"  
Darcy dragged herself from sleep, her back and neck hurting from the weird position she'd been sleeping in. She opened her eyes to a very irate Agent Barton glaring at her. "You had a nightmare." She scooted towards the end of the bed, putting her feet gingerly on the floor, avoiding all the broken glass.

"And you thought that was an invitation to sleep with me?" Clint asked, noticing how much of her butt her boy-shorts did not cover.

"I came in here to see what all the shouting was about and found you pointing your gun at me, excuse me if I wanted to defuse the situation," Darcy shouted. What an ungrateful asshole.

"Then what are you still doing here?" Clint ran his hands through his hair. He couldn't believe that he could have shot her, just because of a stupid nightmare.

"You needed comforting, I stayed." Darcy shook her head and headed for the door, avoiding all the broken glass. She dropped his duty weapon on the top of this dresser and shrugged. "Don't worry, it won't happen again."

"How the hell did you know where I kept my gun?"

"You told me where to put mine." She slammed the door behind her, and stomped to her own room.

"Clint Bartholomew Barton," Clint shuddered, Natasha was back. "You get your ass out here and apologies to Darcy!" He crawled out of bed, and noticed the state of his room. Everything was on the floor, and his lamp made a torturous mess all the way to the door. His gun lay forgotten by the wall. What the hell had happened last night?

Clint hadn't been able to sleep, so he took a sleeping pill from the prescription that Dr. Katz had given him, apparently it had some adverse side effects. He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. He could clearly see that he'd fucked up. "I'm coming," Clint said, pulling a pair of sweat pants out of the dresser and exiting his room.  
"She's in her room," was all Natasha said, but her look clearly said 'fix this.' He nodded and gingerly knocked on the closed door.

"What do you want now," Darcy answered the door, not having bothered to get dressed. It's not like he hadn't seen the show already.

"I wanted to apologize," Clint said, Darcy started to close the door, uninterested in his words. He caught the door before it fully closed, and forced it open. "I was out of line, thank you for your help."

"Don't mention it," Darcy turned back into her room, if he wasn't going to leave, she could at least be comfortable. She dropped herself on the loveseat that faced the large expanse of windows.

"Mind filling me in on the blanks?" Clint asked, standing awkwardly just inside the doorway.

"I heard you shout, came into your room to find you pointing your gun at me, apparently you thought you were in your uniform, because you kept reaching for your knife." Darcy scratched the back of her head, thinking back to how scary he'd looked then, and how ridiculous he appeared in her mind, standing there in his boxers, yelling at no one. "I snuck around your bed, and tackled you, knocking the gun out of your hand, you attacked me, and I talked you down. You told me about Loki, and then you fell asleep. I couldn't move, so I stayed, figuring you needed sleep more then I needed to go back to my room."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Clint said, dropping down on the other side of the couch.

"No worries," she said. "I'd be a little pissed if I woke up with you in my bed, with no recollection of you getting there."

"I was just startled," he said. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said last night," Darcy said, curling her feet under herself. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

"Can we talk with more clothes on?" Clint asked, his eyes wandering to were her shorts where riding up, due to the way she was sitting.

"Too much of a distraction for you?" Darcy got up and walked into her closet. "I thought you were a trained Secret Agent." She came back out in a pair of sweatpants, her eyebrow raised. "A little skin shouldn't distract you that much."

Clint just grunted, and got up to go back to his room. "I'll meet you in the living room in ten," was all he said before shutting her door quietly behind himself. Darcy just shrugged, he walked around in his underwear all the time, what did she care?

Clint spent the morning telling her about everything that happened from the time that Loki entered the SHIELD base to when Natasha literally beat the crazy god out of his head. Darcy listened quietly, sitting next to him, not saying a word. When he started telling her about the attack on the Helicarrier, she held his hand as he struggled to talk. When he was finished, he finally looked at her for the first time, and she could see how haunted he really was by the entire experience, and how much he'd really been hiding.

Clint took a deep breath, not letting go of Darcy's hand, not yet. "We have weapons training in ten minutes," he sighed, clearly not in the mood to deal with other people at all.  
"I'll see if Natasha wants to work with me," Darcy said, pushing the Hawk back down on the couch. "There's no reason why it has to be you today."

"No," Clint said, standing up. "I think shooting something might actually make me feel better."

"There is something therapeutic in making things go boom," she smiled. "Let me just get my shoes."

"And your gun," Clint told her, not bothering to scold her for not carrying like she was supposed to.

"Yeah," Darcy winced. "I tried to put the inner pants holster you gave me on my sweats, but the guns too heavy, and kept pulling them down."

"Then we'll just need to get you tighter pants," Darcy raised her eyebrow at Clint, who clearly hadn't listened to what he had just said. "So they won't fall down, damn Darcy, really? First you show up half naked in my bed, now this?"

"What can I say, I haven't gotten laid in a while," Darcy shrugged. "It's kinda hard when you live with a super-secret crime fighting group."

"Right," he shook his head and headed to his own room to get his shoes. "I'm sure you could find a way."

"What can I say," Darcy smirked, following him down the hall. "The only single guy here that I knew kicked me out of bed this morning."

Clint spent the first hour of weapons training going over firing stances, again. Though he could clearly see that Darcy was getting agitated, he was unrelenting.

"Are you punishing me?" Darcy finally asked, after he demonstrated the desired firing stance for the tenth time, and then kicked at her feet until he was satisfied.

"What would I be punishing you for?" Clint asked, not actually answering the question.

"Well," she looked at him; he wasn't looking her in the eye again. "I'm starting to get the feeling that you're more interested in looking at my butt, then my actual stance, that and you keep correcting me wrong."

"I am not," Clint looked away, knowing that she was probably right, he hadn't paid any attention to how her feet actually where positioned, he was just trying to find an excuse to be behind her.

"You've moved my feet so far apart, I'll fall over if a strong wind comes by," Darcy said, slowly inching her feet back together. "I'm going to step up to the range now, unless you want to watch me get into my stance from the front again."

"Yeah, go ahead," he scratched the back of his head. He simply couldn't get the image of her walking, or really stalking, out of his room, or sitting on her couch, out of his head. "Remember, look where you want the bullet to go, face that way, and breathe out as you squeeze the trigger."

"You know we could help each other out," Darcy looked down the range and fired, missing the target entirely. Clint came up behind her and corrected her hold, and moved her feet, letting her fire again.

"We are helping each other," she hit the edge of the target, and he adjusted her a little more.

"That's not what I mean," Darcy fired again, getting closer to the center of the paper.

"I'm not sleeping with you just because you're convenient," he pushed her hips farther into the direction they needed to go.

"I thought you might want to sleep with me because you liked me," Darcy said, firing again.

"How about we start with something a little less dramatic?" Clint asked, pushing her shoulders down a bit as they started to creep up towards her ears. "Like dinner?"

"We have dinner every night," Darcy told him, pulling the trigger again, this time hitting the center of the target.

"We have dinner in our apartment, usually with Natasha, and it's almost always standing up in the kitchen," Clint stood back and watched her fire again, satisfied with her posture.  
"You want to go on a date?" Darcy asked, a little incredulous. She liked Clint, he was a nice guy, easy to talk to, and a pretty patient, which was a good thing, since she was going to be under his tutelage for the next year, but she didn't see him as a wine and dine kind of guy, more like pick someone up at a bar and forget her name in the morning.

"Yes," Clint said.

"When was the last time you took a girl on a date?"

"When was the last time I didn't have to lie to said girl about what I did?"

"Okay," Darcy agreed. "Saturday, seven o'clock."

"Okay."

Chapter 7

Darcy sat in the living room of Jane's apartment waiting for the scientist to get off the phone with Dr. Selvig who was happily back teaching students, and away from SHIELD, even if it was only for a semester. Darcy gathered, from eavesdropping on the conversation, that Jane was stuck on an equation that just simply wasn't resolving itself, at least not in the way that Jane thought that it should, based on the data she'd been collecting, and had sent it to Eric to look over. What Eric was saying was a complete mystery to her, but apparently living with two super-spies was defiantly helping her snooping skills. Not that Jane was doing anything in particular to keep the conversation quiet.

After finishing up with her training for the day, and going on her run with Natasha, who she was thankful was back, it was much harder to keep up her motivation when she didn't have the most feared agent at SHIELD running at her heals; she thought she would drop in on Jane. Since being reassigned, Darcy hadn't had much time for her friend, and needed some girl time, at least girl time that didn't include drills in knife stripping, the way it was with Natasha. That girl couldn't just sit still and have a drink, and the one time she tried to watch a movie in the living room with her, Darcy had spent more of the movie watching Natasha throw knives at the dart board, then she watched the actual movie.  
Jane finally hung up the phone and turned her attention back to her former intern. Darcy had gained some good muscle tone in the few weeks that she'd been training, and it showed with her choice of clothing. Instead of her usual sweater, Darcy was lounging in a black tank top, which showed of her new arm definition, and a pair of skinny jeans, and black boots. She needed to get her friend away from the spies more often; she was starting to look like them.

"So," Jane said, flopping down on the couch beside her friend. "What have you been up to?"

"Not a whole lot," Darcy told her, it was the truth, outside of training; she'd trained, and slept. Sometimes she ate. "Been learning a lot, mostly new and fun ways to disarm your opponent. Next week I get to learn how to kill someone with my thumbs, at least that's what Natasha promised, I'll believe it when I see it."

"That sounds like fun," Jane said, her voice clearly telling Darcy that Jane meant the opposite. "Eric's glad to be back with his students. Though I think he misses having so much fun tech at his disposal."

"He'll be back," Darcy was sure. She knew after the ordeal with Loki that Dr. Selvig needed a break, he deserved one, but he couldn't stay away from the game too long, it was too much a part of who he was. "How's the research going?" It had to be hard on her friend, so far away from the man she loved. Jane worked non-stop on her theories for a working Einstein-Rosen Bridge to bring Thor back to Earth, but even a super smart scientist needed time off, and sleep; possibly more than regular people. Sleep was as important as food to fuel the brain.

"Slow," Jane looked down at her hands, taking deep breaths. "Too slow." She took another deep breath. "Darcy, I'm pregnant."

"Whoa," Darcy turned and looked at her friend, shock clearly written all over her face. "Plot twist. Jane you've seen Thor like twice; it is Thor's right?"

"Yes, Darcy," Jane sighed. "It's his. And yeah, I've seen him twice, and we've had sex once, and now I'm pregnant, and the father is literally a universe away, and this can't possibly be a normal pregnancy, and I have no idea what to expect, and I'm really freaking out here."

"Take a deep breath," Darcy rubbed her friends back. "No use passing out on me." She racked her brain with what to say. "First, you need to start leaning on your assistance more, you need to sleep for the baby, I don't care if its half god or whatever, you need to rest." Darcy looked around the apartment. "Second, you need to start eating better; this kid can't live on pop-tarts alone. And finally, you need to let SHIELD know, so that you can get some kind of medical supervision, cause there is no way this kids going to be normal."  
"Darcy, calm down," Jane said. "I'll talk to SHIELD in the morning, just for right now, I need my best friend and a pint of ice-cream, and a stupid romantic comedy."

"I can do that," Darcy smiled. "So are you excited?"

"A little," Jane said with a small smile. "And worried, and a little scared."

"He'll be back before you know it," Darcy told her, patting her friend on the back.

"I just hope it's before the baby gets here."

Jane set up a meeting with Fury for the next morning, and with a lot of persuasion, Darcy convinced Clint she needed to be there.

"You guys didn't have to fly me," Jane said over the radio, shouting over the reverberations of the roater blades.

"It's not like we can walk there, Jane," Darcy rolled her eyes.

"They would have sent an agent to pick me up," Jane said.

"Save on fuel," Clint added before Jane or Darcy could say anything else.

"Well, I appreciate it," Jane told him.

"Are either of you going to tell me why you're meeting with the Director?" he asked, curious as to why his trainee, the day after he asked her on a date, was meeting with the Director of SHIELD. Not that it was against regulations, but it was looked down upon to date your direct superior, not that they were dating, it was a single date, and Clint just hoped it didn't go badly, and make living in the apartment more awkward.

"Jane has a serious issue she needs to discuss with him," Darcy said, smiling at Hawkeye, who was looking far too serious. "I'm going along for moral support."

"Ah," he took a deep breath, she wasn't trying to jump ship, or get reassigned. Over the past few weeks, Clint had really discovered that he enjoyed training Darcy. She was energetic, enthusiastic, and took her training seriously. She was also becoming pretty decent at hand to hand, and her archery wasn't terrible; she also had a sufficient respect for the job they were doing. "You going to fill me in on this super-secret mission, or I'm I just the getaway driver?"

"We should probably wait until we land," Jane told him, not thrilled with being in a helicopter to begin with; she didn't want to add 'shocking the pilot' to her list of concerns.  
"Fair enough." The forty minute helicopter ride was quiet after that. Darcy hadn't had a chance to tell Jane about her impending date with Hawkeye, and they didn't want to spill the beans about Jane's condition, and only Jane actually understood what she was working on.

Chapter 8

Fury met them on the bridge of the Helicarrier; he sat at the head of a triangular table, steepling his flingers under his chin, waiting for them it sit.

"Sir," Jane started, putting her hand on the back of a chair, but not sitting. "Is there anywhere a little more privet that we could meet?" She looked around at the plethora of agents sitting at screens around the bridge, not really wanting for them to be privy to what she needed to discuss with the Director.

"Of course," the director stood from his chair, turning his back on the three of them and stalking towards a closed door. The door opened at his approach, and he disappeared inside. "Are you coming?" He called from inside the room, and Jane jumped to follow, dragging Darcy by the hand behind her. Darcy just shrugged at Clint, letting him know she wasn't sure if he should follow.

"Dr. Foster," Clint said before they hit the door. "Would you like me to wait out here?"

"That's not necessary," Jane told him. "You'll find out anyway, might as well let you in on the meeting. You did fly us here after all."

Darcy sat down on one of the chairs that faced the Director's desk and Jane took the seat next to her, Clint lingered just inside the door, just like he had the last time Darcy had been in this office; of course, this time there wasn't a perfectly good chair for him to sit in.

"Director Fury, it's been brought to my attention that I have need to inform you of a personal matter," Jane started. Darcy could tell that she'd been rehearsing her speech; she looked down at her hands as if there were notecards in them, even though her hands were empty and folded in her lap. Jane took a deep breath and looked up at the director, her gaze not quite meeting his. "As you know, I'm working on reopening the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, so that we have a pathway to Asgard, and so that Thor can travel back and forth between our worlds. You also know that I have a personal reason for wanting him back."

"Dr. Foster," Director Fury stopped her. "You don't need to explain any of this to me, while we don't promote fraternization between our employees, we also don't dissuade it either. I understand that we work in an environment that is extremely restrictive, we have agents and scientists that have very little contact with the outside world, some only have outside contact when they are undercover. If you're here to make sure your relationship with Thor is sanctioned, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm here to inform you that I'm pregnant, sir." Jane looked up at Fury, waiting for him to make some kind of facial expression.

"I see," he said, nodding his head. "We of course were aware that this could happen. I'm not going to insult you by asking if it's Thor's, I am going to ask if he knows."

"I only just found out myself," Jane said. "And since I haven't been able to attempt a connection with Asgard, I don't think he knows."

"Of course," the director was quiet for a moment, then hit a few keys on his computer, and sent a message to someone. "I'd like you to go down to medical, we need to make sure you are both healthy, and we'll take it from there."

"Okay," Jane went to stand, but Clint stopped her.

"I'd rather she not be alone in her apartment, sir." Hawkeye looked at the director then at Darcy. "Since Thor isn't here to help her out, it might be a good idea to have one of us with her."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," Fury looked contemplative. "Since you have your hands full with Darcy, I don't think it would be remise to move Agent Romanoff in with Dr. Foster, only until such a time as we can get Thor back."

"I really don't need anyone taking care of me," Jane protested.

"Yes you do," Darcy countered. "I know you, if we let you, you'll spend all your time at the lab and eat nothing but junk food. I don't care if this baby's half Asgardian; it still needs the occasional piece of fruit, and maybe a vegetable sometimes, too."

"I will let Agent Romanoff know," he reached for his phone and placed the call.

Jane got up and pulled Darcy with her, as soon as they were through the door, she stopped. "She scares me."

"She's not so scary once you get to know her," Darcy told her friend. She'd gotten to know Natasha on their daily runs, and also having her around the apartment, while they weren't the best of friends, the Russian was a pretty normal chick outside of work. "Just make sure that there's vodka in the freezer."

"Better let Natasha pick it out," Clint chuckled. "She's a bit of a snob."

"Right," Jane looked around the bridge. "How do I get to medical?"

"Down to level six, its right across the hall from the elevator," Clint said, pointing at an elevator. "Do you want someone to go down with you?"

"No that's okay," Jane shook her head. "I'll give Darcy a call when I'm finished." Jane disappeared into the lift, and Darcy turned to Clint, who hand his hand on the small of her back, turning her in a different direction.

"Where are we going?" she asked, letting him lead her off the bridge.

"The range on level two," he let his arm slide around her waist, once they were away from the prying eyes of the bridge. While it wasn't discouraged, he'd rather keep their developing relationship away from the gossip circles. "I need to shoot something, and you need to practice with your knives."

"Tash makes fun of my face when I throw," Darcy pouted.

"You scrunch your face up and stick your tongue out," Clint laughed. "You know when you're actually using this skill, you can't do that."

"It helps me aim," Darcy stuck her bottom lip out.

"No it doesn't," Clint said, watching as she bit her lip. "And stop doing that."

"Why?" Darcy asked, giving him a sly smile.

"You're not going to have any problem with undercover," Clint said, pulling her along to an elevator. "I'm going to have a hard time letting you, though."

"Are we getting too attached, Agent?" Darcy teased.

"You're going to get me shot," Clint said, pulling her into the elevator.

It was more than an hour later when Jane called, letting Darcy know that she was going to be staying on the Helicarrier overnight, and not to worry about a ride back for her. Clint figured that since they didn't have any time frame, they could take the time to do some training, and lead Darcy on a five mile run through the bowels of the base.

"Is this really nessisary?" Darcy asked after she tripped over the third bulkhead doorframe.

"You never know what circumstances you'll find yourself in," Clint said from behind her, not even the least bit winded, while she was gasping for air. "You need to be adaptable."  
"You're going to take me out into the woods and make me find my own way home with nothing but a pocket knife and dental floss aren't you?"

"I wasn't," Clint told her, chuckling as she picked herself back up. "But that sounds like a promising third date."

"What are we doing for our second date?" she asked, dropping back into an easy jog, paying a bit more attention to what was happening down by her feet. "Sniper training?"

"I was thinking a nice Italian restaurant down on 49th, but if you want to learn how to shoot from long range, I'm sure I can arrange that, too."

"Italian sounds nice," Darcy said, ducking through the next door, remembering to keep her feet high. "But let's make sure the first date doesn't suck."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Clint laughed, using his hand on her hip to guide her around some steam pipes.

"If you keep touching me while we run, I'm going to fall again," Darcy told him.

"I'll just have to save it for our date, then." Clint smiled, watching her run in front of him; he was in a lot of trouble. Not only was he completely distracted by her body, but he was also starting to see why Fury wanted her as an agent. She might underestimate herself, but she was capable, good at taking direction, and while she was still a little awkward on her feet sometimes, she was making incredible progress. He was always surprised when Fury could see the agent from the raw material he started with. He was going to be in so much trouble when Natasha took her on her first undercover mission.


	2. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand, and the fact that once I reread the story, I kinda wanted to continue it.

Demons

Chapter 9

Darcy missed Natasha. She isn’t know when or how, but she’d gotten inexplicably attached to the cold Russian assassin. But she was really wishing the woman would be back soon. Clint dropped down onto the couch, a beer in one hand and the remote that Darcy’d given up looking for, in the other. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and took a long pull off the beer.

“You got one of those for me?” she asked as he flipped on the television and started channel surfing.

“Cant’,” Clint took another pull from the bottle. “You’re in training.” Darcy just raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to get you drunk and take advantage of you before our first date.”

Darcy snorted. “Dude,” she looked at him with her best Natasha blank look. “That ship sailed.”

“I was on Ambien,” he mumbled into his beer. “And I didn’t take advantage, we cuddled and fell asleep, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“You humped my leg,” she told him with a straight face.

“I did not,” Clint polished off his beer.

“No, you didn’t,” she laughed. “But that look on your face is priceless.”

“Now I’m really not giving you one,” he popped the top off a second bottle and took a long drink.

“Natasha would,” Darcy called over the back of the couch.

“No she wouldn’t,” Clint snatched the remote from her questing fingers and dropped back onto the couch.

“You’re right, we’d do shots of ice cold Russian vodka.” She smiled, a little evil glint in her eyes. “She also wouldn’t worry about taking advantage.”

“No,” Clint looked her up and down for a moment. “Fine, beers on the counter.”

“Why Agent Barton,” Darcy drawled, jumping off the couch. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding a little exasperated. “Get me another while you’re up.”

“Okay,” she popped the caps off of two more bottles and walked back to the couch. “You trying to get wasted, or just determined to finish the six pack before I get a second.”

“Just a long day, babe,” Clint told her, taking the beer and dropping his arm over her shoulder.

“You wanna talk about it?” she tucked herself into his side, her feet up under her, beer bottle between her fingers. Miller, of course Clint would drink Miller.

“All talked out,” he let his bottle dangle from the hand over her shoulder and let himself relax into her. “How’s Jane?”

“Freaking out,” Darcy took a sip from her beer. “I mean, she’s seen Thor twice and now she’s knocked up with an intergalactic super baby.”

“We’ll get Thor back,” Clint reasoned, she just grunted. “She’ll be fine, babe.”

“I know,” she smiled up at him. “It just sucks, I mean she pined for the Big Guy forever, finally got him back, only to lose him again, and now she’s all alone.” She huffed. “That ended up being much more of a downer then I was expecting.”

“You’re worried about your friend,” he told herm dropping the remote, no matter how many channels the Tower had, nothing good was ever one. “I worry about Tash all the time.”

“You’re a good friend,” Darcy told him.

“Course she’s not carrying an intergalactic super baby,” Clint took a slow pull on his beer, staring at the commercial about some dog food, that he wouldn’t buy any dog, no matter how hungry they were, that shit looked nasty.

“That’s pretty impossible,” she twirled the bottle between her fingers, almost missing Clint’s shocked look. “What, we talk.”

“Darcy, it wasn’t until more than a year after we stopped sleeping together that Natasha actually told me why we didn’t have to worry about birth control,” he told her, putting his beer down on the coffee table and looking at the girl. “How on earth did you get her to tell you?”

“We talk on our runs,” she said, shrugging. “You know, girl talk.”

“Tash doesn’t do girl talk,” Clint looked at her, turning his head to the side, like she was some kind of puzzle he hadn’t quite gotten yet.

“Has she ever had someone to do girl talk with?” Darcy watched as Clint really thought about the question. “She’s been surrounded by men since she came to SHIELD, and Hill isn’t any girlier then most of the guys.”

“Okay, point,” he slouched back on the couch. “While we’re on the subject.”

“I’m clean,” Darcy told him, trying not to roll her eyes. “But you know that, because all my medical records are in my file. I’ve been on the pill since I was fifteen, I’ve had six previous partners, two of which were women, none since I took the internship with Jane.”

“Wow,” he looked at her for a moment then dropped his arm back around her. “Well, I’ve had eight partners of any significance. All of whom were women, was married once, we were young, didn’t last long. I’m clean, and I haven’t had a partner in about a year.” His eyes flicked up to hers as she pealed the label off her bottle. “Really, two women?”  
“Don’t get any ideas, cowboy,” Darcy stuffed the pealed label into one of Clint’s empties. “Don’t think I didn’t catch the ‘of any significance,’ either.”

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

“No,” she curled back up into his side and took a pull at her beer, Clint seemed to have abandoned his on the coffee table, as he got comfortable again. “Past is past.”

“Alright then, awkward sex talk finished?”

“For now,” Darcy polished off her beer and reaching over to place it on the table. “I’m feeling some Chinese tonight, a little moo shu, maybe some general tso.”

“I’ll grab the menus and the last two beers,” Clint laid a kiss against her hair.

“I’ll cue up the Netflix,” Darcy flicked through her account and watched Clint in the kitchen. “You know I’m still expecting a nice romantic evening at that Italian place you mentioned.”

“Yep, Friday,” Clint popped the tops off the last two bottles and tucked the take out menus under his arm. “But tonight is a night at home with my very attractive roommate, and maybe a little inappropriate touching.”

“Well, a month of you and Tasha kicking my ass has definitely improved some things,” she said, accepting the beer and taking a long pull.

“Don’t know, Darce,” he flopped down next to her and went for the remote, a quick wrap on the back of his hand deterred him nicely. “You’ve been a little distracting since day one.”

“Right,” Darcy settled on a random movie. “I’m aware of the fact that you wanted to be anywhere but training me.”

“True, not gonna lie, sweetheart,” Clint tipped back his beer. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t appreciating the scenery while being all kinds of pissed off at being pulled from active.” He threw his arm around her and settled in, looking at their Chinese menu.

“And now?” she slid the remote onto the couch by her feet and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Hasn’t sucked,” Clint smiled down at her eye roll. “Don’t tell Tash, but she was right, Fury wouldn’t have fast tracked you if there wasn’t something there.”

“Was that almost a compliment?” Darcy accepted a gentle kiss against her upturned lips. “More please,” she smiled and batted her eyes. Clint slid his unoccupied hand into her hair and put more effort into the kiss, his lips warm and wet against hers, pulling her bottom lip between his, sucking gently.

“If we keep this up,” he breathed against her lips. “We aren’t going to bake it to our first date.”

“The terms of dating are a little different these days,” Darcy said, turning into him to get a better angle. “Sometimes it’s okay to not wait until the first date for a kiss.”

“Really,” Clint pulled her all the way into his lap. “I think I can be good with that.” He pulled her into him, capturing her lips with his. Darcy ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, her hands scratching along the back of his neck as he deepened their kiss.

“I still want Chinese,” Darcy told him as he trailed open mouth kisses along her jaw.

“I’ll get you your moo shu in a bit, babe,” he said into the side of her neck, before biting down gently at her pulse point. Darcy ground her hips down into his lap, pulling a long groan from both of them.

“Take your time,” she moaned as his hands gripped her hips, holding her tightly against him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse needs food. Tell the author what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.


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